Sly slytherin, dumb gryffindor.
Born by blood, torn by fate. Slow burn between a malfoy heiress and the chosen one.
UMBRA REGNET.
Started on 08/31/2024
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April 10, 1996. Hogwart's school of witchcraft and wizardry.
Aurora sat perched on the edge of one of the stone archways that overlooked the garden, her legs tucked beneath her as she leaned against the cool stone. The air was crisp, with the faint scent of spring flowers drifting in from the grounds. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and chatter of the castle. She had been trying to read—some muggle book about talking farm animals—but her mind kept wandering.
It had been three weeks since Harry Potter and George Weasley had ambushed Draco, and since that day, she'd found herself avoiding confrontations. She had hexed Harry, of course, and the rush of power in that moment had felt good. But afterward? All the progress she had made with Harry in their months of study sessions had dissolved into silence and tension.
After all, she had been forced to work with Harry since December, and although the idea had been intolerable at first, they had developed a kind of rhythm. For months, they'd worked together—silent at first, then with small exchanges of ideas, small talks that neither of them would admit felt... not as horrible as expected. The tension had gradually lessened, and they had grown almost accustomed to each other's presence. Aurora wasn't dreading these meetings as much as she used to.
But now? Now it was back to square one.
The fight had shattered whatever fragile progress they'd made, and Aurora had reverted to near silence in their study sessions. She would show up, sit down, and work without a word, her eyes barely meeting his, the air between them heavy with the unspoken anger and resentment she couldn't shake. She was trying to remind herself why she disliked him so much, but somehow, Harry had a way of defying her expectations at every turn.
She was trying to keep her peace, ignore everyone and focus on herself and her relationship, but the circumstances made it hard. Since the breakout, people had whispered behind her back—about her, about her brother, about their father. Her aunt Bellatrix's name had been on everyone's lips, her face plastered on every headline. It wasn't news to her; gossip followed the Malfoy name like a shadow. Usually, no one ever dared to confront her directly. Normally, they were smart enough to just whisper behind her back. Apparently, that wasn't the case today.
She had been hoping for some quiet, but when she heard footsteps approaching, followed by snickers, she knew her peace was about to be shattered. The voices reached her before the group did, loud and mocking. Aurora could hear the unmistakable tone of Gryffindors coming down the corridor toward her, their laughter harsh and grating. She rolled her eyes, ignoring them as best she could, hoping they would just pass by and leave her in peace.
No such luck.
Their group, led by a tall, broad-shouldered boy she vaguely recognized as Cormac McLaggen, came swaggering her way. At first, they hadn't noticed her, too busy laughing about something trivial. But then one of them pointed, and their laughter shifted. It grew cruel.
